


...Not Actually an Asshole

by CherryMountain, OnyxRing



Series: The Dreaded Realization That My Soulmate Is... [3]
Category: Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Gore, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Mild Language, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Tragedy, Tragic Situations, alcoholic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-04-30 23:48:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5184332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherryMountain/pseuds/CherryMountain, https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxRing/pseuds/OnyxRing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tragic story of a soulmate first-meet, and no happy ending</p>
            </blockquote>





	...Not Actually an Asshole

**Author's Note:**

> Where your soulmates First Words on written on your skin.  
> I hadn't intended to hurt Bruce anymore, but... shit happens. One of us had to write a death, so I womaned up.
> 
> -Cherry

“Look at me, motherfucker.”

Bruce’s eyes shot open, hearing those familiar words. The same words that were scrawled across his arm. The ones he’s hidden with long-sleeved shirts because they were inappropriate. The ones he’d hated because they were rude words to say to someone you’ve just met. One’s he’d seen every day of his life.

The moment of calm was interrupted by a wave of pain across his abdomen, and he cried out, searching for the source that was causing it.

There were hands pressed into his stomach, covered in dark red blood. Those hands were attached to a man hovering over him, staring down at him with panicked eyes. “Okay, keep looking at me, keep your eyes open.”

Bruce blinked, still hung up on his words. “It’s you,” he coughed, struggling to speak through all the pain. “You’re-” He didn’t even know what to say. He’d imagined plenty of scenarios as to why someone would say those rude words to him, of what he’d say back, but none of them were of him being shot, and this man trying to save his life.

Instead, he tried to lift his arm, to get to his sleeve.

The man above him shook his head. “Just stay still, okay? Don’t strain yourself.”

Bruce shook his head. The man didn’t realize it yet. He had to know. If Bruce was going to-

He shook his head.  _Don’t think about it, Banner_.  _Focus._  He managed to get his arm up and maneuvered his hand around this man’s hands, and began fumbling at his sleeve.

He felt exhausted, and his arms felt like weights. They were difficult to hold up, and they were getting bloody as well. But he fought through it and pulled, trying to reveal his arm. There were others behind the man, people forming a circle around them, but they weren’t close enough for Bruce to see their faces. Far enough away for them to blur at the edges.

The man watched him, confused, or curious, or both. Bruce closed his eyes, feeling like sighing, but the man quickly shouted at him. “Hey, open-”

Bruce opened his eyes to see the man’s eyes widen, replacing the panic of trying to save Bruce’s life with shock at his arm. “No…” He shook his head, and once again pressed into Bruce, sending another wave of pain.

Bruce cringed, feeling his lungs flutter, and he coughed.

“It’s me,” the man confirmed, his voice now filled with sorrow. He saw the man press deeper, but Bruce didn’t feel his hands anymore. He felt dizzy, lightheaded, his sight fluttering. Numb.

Hands reached up and touched his neck; he saw the blurred figure move more than felt him. “Your name.”

Bruce shook, and if he could have, he would have sobbed. “Bruce… m’ name… ‘s Bruce.”

“Tony.” His voice quivered. Tony’s voice. “I’m sorry.”

Bruce blinked, hard, trying to clear his vision. It worked, a little. The man above him was fuzzed around the edges, but Bruce tried to ignore it. He wanted to memorize this man’s face, those dazzling blue eyes.

Tony had tears in his eyes, but they didn’t fall. He was doing his best to smile, but it looked more like a cringe than anything. “Just think, if I hadn’t heard the gunshot…” He shook his head. “At least we got to meet, right?”

Bruce tried to nod, tried to smile. His lips twitched, but nothing else. Things could have been different. They probably wouldn’t have met. Would have kept picturing what it would be like to find each other. Imagining a much more happy meeting, happier made-up visions of the future. Happier.

Except Bruce still had that. He didn’t know if this man was humorous or serious, if he slept in and had to get dragged out of bed to function, if he liked to sit next to him or across, and so many more things. And he never would. They both knew it.

Tony blurred again, but Bruce saw him remove his hands, give up. He imagined the blood on them, that must be on Bruce’s neck, that must be everywhere. So much red in so little time.

* * *

Tony cleared his desk in anger, then immediately moved to his bar. He shoved, punched, and kicked any bottle he saw, sending shards of glass and liquids everywhere. He yelled, clearing an entire shelf, then tipped over a crate of glasses. He threw a bottle at the mirror, breaking both, sending pieces of the reflective glass in every direction, no doubt earning scratches on himself and the room.

But he didn’t care. He continued the destruction until there was one bottle left, sitting on the bottom shelf beside a row of shot glasses. He froze, staring at it, heaving.

He couldn’t save him. His soulmate, right there, and he had failed like he had his entire life. He could never do anything right.

It made him angry. It made him struggle. It made him hurt. It made him weak.

He took the bottle in his hand then sank to the floor, scattering shards of glass around him. Already he felt desperate for what it would bring. He fumbled in opening the bottle, and when he finally got the damn cap off, he hurriedly began swallowing the liquid.

Until the anger disappeared. Until he cried. And then he kept drinking until there was nothing left to feel at all.

**Author's Note:**

> No more deaths, we promise


End file.
